


A Promise to the Wind

by Hestia



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad, excessive use of a thesaurus, some borrowed Slavic mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia/pseuds/Hestia
Summary: When your seams have come unknittedAnd you cry out to the skyI've run out of my words, my songJust let me die, me die(lyrics from The Rockrose and the Thistle by The Amazing Devil)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 107





	A Promise to the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Hope you'll like this fic. It's a bit sad but please give it a chance.
> 
> Inspiration for this fic came from the book the Near Witch by V.e Schwab. It's fantastic, check it out!  
> It also came from the album [Frostpunk](https://open.spotify.com/album/5TbVBAhE5xa2DL8t3qdAxC?si=AF9pwCl5ROW2B-W1sdRWEA) by Piotr Musical. It's an orchestral violin album and I highly recommend playing it to set the mood while reading.
> 
> Huge shoutout to my fantastic beta [Poetastic](https://poetastic.tumblr.com/) for not only putting up with my nonsense and many, many messages and correcting my spelling mistakes but also for improving this fic so much. She is a fantastic person and you should check out her Tumblr. Couldn't have done this without you! 💕

Jaskier seals his own fate barely a week after he leaves the mountain, in a little tavern where he has settled in a corner to drown his sorrow in ale. He doesn’t even hear the guy approach; he doesn’t care much if someone tries to mug him. Geralt would not be pleased but who cares? Certainly not the Witcher, he made that painfully clear.  
“I’ll give you a good price on the room if you play that lute!” The owner offers happily. Jaskier thinks about it for a bit but decides against the idea. He’s tired.  
“Sorry I don’t think I have the energy for that tonight.” The innkeeper takes one good look at him and understands. Jaskier hasn’t slept well in days.  
“Uh. Been one of these days, right?”  
“Yeah… I’m afraid it’s been ‘one of these days’ for several years now”, Jaskier shakes his head a little before drinking a big mouthful of ale. The innkeeper taps him twice in the shoulder with big bear hands.  
“There, there bard! It’ll be better in the morning. And if not, ain’t nothing you can do but drink some more ale.” Well, he’s not wrong… “And if you change your mind and want to do a little concert, just jump on one of those tables. We ain’t fancy ‘round here.”  
The big man leaves him alone after that. Jaskier puts his tankard down and picks up the quill he discarded half an hour ago on top of his open notebook. He just holds it idly, playing a little with the feather. More by habit than anything else; he hasn’t written in days anyway. His eyes travel to his lute poking out from the bag set next to him. He strokes at it a little, gently, almost with melancholy. “I don’t think I can sing anymore”, he says softly, to no one in particular after a small sigh. It’s only a whisper but that’s enough.

That night he goes to bed more tired than he has felt in a long time. A wild wind, coming from the west, has picked up outside and when he closes the window, a draft rolls in, bringing warm air that makes Jaskier shiver. It’s well into autumn now, the days are getting cold and the warm breath feels like an unexpected caress on his cool skin. Jaskier feels it deep in his bones. Still, he goes to bed weary and doesn’t find any peace. The wind whispers all night to him but it’s not loud enough for him to hear, not yet. _Come..._

***

When he wakes up, the wind hasn’t died down one bit but he needs to move on. He doesn’t have much coin left and the town's too little for him to earn much if he decides to perform again. The air is biting at his skin the entire time, like an unrelenting lover. The breeze is too warm on his cold skin. Some gushes are so strong his body feels like a petal being pushed around the road. He feels too light. When night falls he has no choice but to stop in a small forest. He tries to find some protection from the trees but the wind is impossible to escape. The breeze in the leaves is so loud, it feels like it’s everywhere at once, enfolding him completely. He doesn’t get any rest that night either. The wind whispers louder to him. He can almost hear it. _Come, come…_ He dreams of flying.

But it’s only on the second day that Jaskier understands what’s happening. One moment he has his pack in his hand, ready to move on, the next the bag drops loudly on the ground. “Bollocks!” he says, frustrated. He goes to pick up the bundle, but his fingers are not solid enough to grasp it. Jaskier freezes, eyes wide. He can see the forest floor right through his hand. The air around him suddenly feels warmer, it coils around him and whispers his name playfully. _Jaskier_. Jaskier flickers suddenly. In and out. He’s here and everywhere and back again.

And he remembers.

Not only the words he said in the tavern but the promise he made too. Not now, not now! Not after everything! His mind screams in a panic. “No! I don’t deserve this!” He yells at the air in the trees, at nothing and everything at once. He’s so tired and the wind is so unnerving, it makes his skin ache. But he knows perfectly well why this is happening and he can’t escape it. He knows the deal has been fulfilled as soon as he uttered the words. Not just because he said them, but because he put meaning behind them, weight. He believed. ‘I don’t think I can sing anymore’. That’s enough, it’s everything.

Jaskier tried picking up his lute on the mountain after spending the entire first night cold, hungry and alone. But the words never came. He knows them, they are his to play with, to bend and shape them to his will. But every time Jaskier tries, the words get stuck in his throat. Or worse, he manages to get them out but the end result is less than melodious. It’s not music, it’s just noises, small strangled screams he can’t take back. There is no joy in them, no light, not even hope in his darkest ballads. It’s been over a week but he can’t let the words out.

“I don’t deserve this!” He shouts at nothing again. The gale is everywhere around him and it's so disorienting. “I need more time, I’m not done yet. I need…” he falls on the forest floor on his knees. The wind is so strong he can’t breathe. “I don’t deserve this”, he whispers this time. “Please”, he demands but no one answers. “Please”, he says again, softly, desperate. The wind dies down to a small draft, like a warm blanket thrown over him. He lost his voice on that damn mountain when Geralt took everything away. He tried but how can he sing when his heart is in pieces? Jaskier can’t sing and he knows, with every fibre of his being, that it’s going to kill him. He curls up on the forest floor and stays there an eternity, listening to the wind around him. It whispers _Come, come, come,..._

***

He doesn’t know exactly when he got up after that. The sun is high but he doesn’t feel the heat anymore. By now, summer is long gone, the forest is slowly turning red. He finds his way to a small city after a few days. It takes time, one gust is enough to push him in the wrong direction. He’s so light. He hears about a Witcher hunting a nest of Devourers and he worries, of course. Those can be nasty and they like to torture their prey. He’s not even sure it’s Geralt. And why should he care anyway? Geralt clearly doesn’t care about him. Jaskier is so tired, his skin is raw and too tight. Inside the small room he rented, he can rest and hide from the wind a little and he feels more solid. But he’s still flickering more and more each passing day. In and out, in and out. Nowhere and everywhere. He needs to sing again or he’ll run out of time, he’s certain. He can’t break his promise. He tries, again and again, but the music dies every time. All he can hear are Geralt’s last words and it shuts his throat tight. He needs a muse. To ignite the spark again. He needs sweet words and sweeter wine to let him forget. So he sets off again to try to find it. His lute’s more solid on his back than he is himself. At night he weeps. He doesn’t want to go just yet but the wind never stops calling in his dreams. He dreams he can fly, high and free. And it feels good.

Jaskier doesn’t want to see Geralt but Fate brings them back together only a day later. He’s walking aimlessly. He wanted to go somewhere, he was in a city just that morning to find someone but it’s difficult to remember now, it’s been almost a week since the wind started chasing him and his mind is full of cotton. All his energy seems concentrated on existing but he looks still like a ghost. The flickering has gotten so bad that morning that if he’s not careful, the wind takes him with it and every time, it takes longer and longer for Jaskier to reappear somewhere else. And it’s so painful. His entire body aches when he comes back.  
He doesn’t even think where his feet are bringing him. He just follows, almost completely detached from himself. It’s late. He’s in a forest now. He should be making camp but he doesn’t want to stop, not while his body is still strong enough. The breeze is still around him, never leaving, nipping at his skin. _Come, come, come, come…_ it whispers, endlessly.  
Jaskier stumbles on the camp completely by accident. He’s lighter now, barely touching the leaves he’s waking on, so he doesn’t make as much noise as he usually would. But the Witcher still heard enough to be up and ready for everything. Except maybe Jaskier. He hadn’t been prepared for this.  
“Jaskier?” He says, incredulous. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jaskier’s head rises, he’s been looking at the ground, not even noticing the clearing he entered. He inhales sharply and stops walking as soon as he sees Geralt. He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or still resigned to his Fate.

All it takes is a small gust and Jaskier feels halfway gone for a while. Like the wind is taking him with it and won’t let go this time. Geralt sees it. Jaskier, half himself, half gone, like his body is being pulled in two different directions. Then it looks like Jaskier pulls himself back when the wind dies down. He winces from the pain but his eyes find Geralt’s.  
“Fuck”. He’s medallion is vibrating slightly.  
They don’t say anything. Geralt is not even blinking, he can’t process what he’s just seen.  
“Seems I can’t escape you,” Jaskier says finally, almost too low for even a Witcher to hear.  
“What the fuck Jaskier, what’s happening to you?” Geralt is in front of Jaskier in an instant grabbing him by both shoulders, panic clear in his eyes and Jaskier can feel the weight of his own body returning again. Geralt is checking him for injury but he can’t bear to feel those strong hands on him, not anymore.  
“Leave me be”, he says, pushing the Witcher away with one arm. Geralt doesn’t go far, Jaskier might be regaining some ground on his affliction but he’s still barely solid to make any sort of impact.  
“What’s going on?”  
Jaskier’s mind is rapidly returning too now. His thoughts don’t feel as foggy. The call of the wind is not as strong as it was before. He snorts.  
“The White Wolf himself, just my luck! The only fucking man I don’t want to see in the entire continent and here he is, right in front of me!”  
“You’re the one who walked into my camp actually.”  
“And I’m leaving right now! See you around Geralt. Or not!” Jaskier turns to leave but Geralt is impossibly fast and catches him. Jaskier is pinned against the nearest tree by a heavy hand on his chest before he can take another breath.  
“What the fuck is going on Jaskier”, Geralt half grows.  
“What is it to you, Witcher?” Jaskier snarls, equally feral.  
“I saw you disappeared just a fucking second ago! Tell me now!”  
“Oh, now you want to talk to me? Excuse me if I don’t want to shovel any more shit into your life. Let me go!” He pushes at Geralt’s chest with both hands this time and the Witcher pulls away, enough for Jaskier to take a few steps to the side. He doesn’t walk far, but enough that Geralt can’t touch him anymore.  
“Jaskier, whatever this is let me help.”  
“You know what, fuck you Geralt!” Jaskier throws his arms wide open and turns toward Geralt. The wind seems to pick up around him, raising with Jaskier’s anger. “You wanted me gone! Well, wish fucking granted! I’m disappearing, quite literally as it happens, and I’m never going to be a burden, to you or anyone ever again!”  
Geralt makes a movement to go to Jaskier, but the bard seems to vanish when the breeze gets strong enough. He reappears a few feet away and falls to the ground, on his knees, breathless.  
“Fuck, I fucking hate this” Jaskier gasps, the pain making it difficult to breathe. His arm, his leg, his fingers and his back are on fire. He coughs a bit of blood on the ground. It takes a while for the pain to go away. He should be used to it by now but it always takes him by surprise every time he reappears.  
Geralt approaches, slowly and kneels next to Jaskier. Silently he raises his arm next to the bard, who takes it and helps himself up, resting heavily against Geralt.  
“Bring me to the fire, I need warmth.” The Witcher does just that, helping Jaskier to sit without a word. He even deposits his blanket around Jaskier who can’t stop shivering. The wind has died down a little but it’s lurking, in the branches of the trees, all around them. Geralt can almost feel it watching, waiting, ready to strike.  
They sit in silence. Geralt gives Jaskier some warm food he’s been making before all this and waits, settling not far from the bard but not close enough to touch. Jaskier hasn’t even looked at him yet and the air feels heavy around them both. But some colours are returning in Jaskier’s cheeks once he has eaten and Geralt can wait, he’s patient.

It takes nearly an hour for Jaskier to find the right words. He used to be able to just pluck them from the air and paint them in colourful shapes. But they don’t come as easily now. The sun has set a while ago and the fire is the only thing illuminating Jaskier in strokes of oranges.  
”I'm disappearing because I can’t sing”, he says very quietly, not even looking at Geralt.  
“What happened?” He asks in a low voice.  
“I made a promise before I met you. A promise I thought I could always keep.”  
“What sort of a promise? To whom?”  
Jaskier sighs heavily and strokes his face with both his hands. Then gives a small desperate laugh. It’s not happy, it’s melancholic and Geralt hates it.  
“I was young and stupid and scared, so, so scared Geralt.” He finally raises his head toward the Witcher. “I was trying to catch dinner in a forest and before you say anything, yes I know how bad I am at hunting but I do have some capabilities, I wouldn't have survived alone otherwise. Plus I was really hungry. I’d been walking for a few days then without much to eat. I nearly caught something too. But the ground got out from under me. I don’t really know what happened but I fell. For a long time. It was… bad. Broke my leg and my back. Part of my arm plus some of my fingers and most of my ribs too. And one of them pierced my lung, I think.” Geralt doesn’t say anything, but the expression on his face is enough.  
“Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I’m an idiot and I should have been more careful. But I don’t have your reflexes and I couldn’t stop it. How many young lads set off on their own and never make it back anyway? So there I was, dying in a ditch somewhere nobody would ever find me. I couldn’t move, everything was painful and I could barely breathe and it hurt… so much. I couldn’t do anything to get myself out of there, so after a few hours, I started singing for someone, something, anything to help me. I was so scared. I kept coughing blood so it wasn’t good and singing was painful but it…. It helped. A little.”  
Geralt doesn’t respond. He can’t.  
“I really thought I was going to die but it heard me.”  
“It?”  
“Dogoba”  
“You summoned the Spirit of the West Wind with your singing?” Geralt asks incredulously.  
“I did. Or it found me by chance or by Fate, I don’t know.”  
“Please tell me you didn’t make a pact with a spirit of nature.” Geralt sighs.  
“I was dying”, Jaskier says with a small voice. Around them, the wind wakes up.  
“Fuck.”

They don’t say anything for a while. Geralt is scared of what Jaskier is going to tell him next. But he has to ask eventually.  
“What was the promise you made?”  
“The spirit came to me and told me I had a beautiful voice. It said it felt sad that it wouldn’t hear it again. So I… pleaded? I told it I was too young to die. That I still had many songs to sing and I couldn’t die before finding my muse, my true love and spending my life with them until we both died.”  
“Your true love, really Jaskier?”  
“I was eighteen! I know it’s not exactly real but I was a hopeless romantic who just wanted to become famous and find that one special person that would inspire me the most beautiful and epic ballads any poet would ever sing! They might have been bitten out of you Geralt, but some of us still have dreams. Especially young dying bards”, Jaskier pulls the blanket tighter around him.  
“Humm”.  
“Dogoba is said to be a compassionate Spirit so I supposed it felt bad for me. It said ‘I will save you so you can find the other half of you. But you have to make me a promise. You will give me your voice. I will heal you and will give you many years with your Destiny. But when you stop singing, you will be mine and you will bring music to the wind forever. Promise me, child.’  
“And you did.”  
“What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to die. I never stop singing after that. I met you nearly three weeks later in Posada.”  
“You were so young then.” Geralt remembers fondly.  
“I was. It seemed like a good bargain then. I was going to find the love of my life if those exist, and I was going to write the best songs ever written. And I love singing so it was fine. Until…”  
“Until what?”  
“Until two weeks ago. When I stopped singing. I thought I had more time… Before this would happen I mean. I just… I thought it would be fine for a while, that I would find the words again… I barely even remembered my promise. It was so long ago Geralt, I was so naive… I thought I would be fine.” The fire cracks and Jaskier’s eyes travel back to it. It’s warm and strong and sends sparks flying high. Jaskier watches them dance in the air for a moment. “But I can’t find them and now the wind is going to take me“, he adds softly.

Geralt doesn't say anything for a bit. He waits but Jaskier doesn’t speak again.  
“You certainly don’t lack material, just start again.”  
“It’s not that easy.”  
“Of course it is!” Geralt exclaims, exasperated. “You know how your curse works and you know how to stop it so just sing dammit!”  
“I can’t!” Jaskier shouts, the wind picking up around them as he’s getting angry. He throws the blanket on the ground. The warmth of the fire feels wrong on his skin, he needs to get away, he needs air. He takes only a few steps but Geralt gets up and follows, unyielding.  
“Why the fuck not? You voice clearly still works!” Geralt spits harshly, no less angry Jaskier can be this stubborn. They are just furious at each other now.  
“I just told you I can’t! I’ve tried but I can’t fucking sing because of you!”  
“I didn’t do this to you!!”  
“You broke my heart, you fucking idiot!!”  
“I…. What?” Geralt takes a step back like he’s been punched. He doesn’t know what to say. They’re looking at each other, in silence. Geralt can see the rage and resentment in Jaskier’s eyes and the Witcher feels completely lost. Jaskier is breathing fast as the air is violently vibrating around him, pulling his hair in every direction, tugging at his clothes mercilessly. He’s flickering more rapidly than ever. Leaves get pulled from the trees and blown all around them. Jaskier screws his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the gust around them.  
When he opens them again, he finds that Geralt is still looking at him. The flames make his eyes glow, deepening the colour to a warm honey. Jaskier used to love looking at Geralt in the light of the fire. He sighs deeply, exhausted.  
“When you tossed me away, after the dragon hunt, you washed away twenty-two years of my life in a single breath. You told me to fuck off, that I was bringing only misery in your life and I couldn’t take it. You broke my heart Geralt.” The wind dies down to a warm breeze.  
Geralt doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t understand.  
“After all those night out you had with… fuck, just about anybody, I can’t believe a few harsh words said in anger would break your spirit. And even if it did, I can’t believe this is the first time you get your heart broken by someone. It hasn’t stopped you from singing before.” Geralt’s words are cold, lacking any compassion.  
“Not like this. Not when it…. mattered”, Jaskier says quietly, tears in his eyes.  
Geralt reaches for Jaskier, finally recognizing what the bard has tried to say so many times before. But Jaskiers pulls away, turning his back to the Witcher.  
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Geralt’s hand falls away before he can. It’s hard to swallow. He looks at the ground for a bit, processing what he had just heard and seen.  
“I’m sorry Jaskier. I’m sorry I didn’t understand… didn’t see.” he answers, a little stunned.  
Jaskier says nothing.  
“I’m sorry for what I said”, Geralt adds after a moment, awkwardly, raising his head. “You were right, it wasn’t fair. I thought I had lost everything so I made sure to lose what I actually had. I wanted to be alone.”  
Jaskier turns back a fraction toward Geralt, eyes shining. He looks like he’s going to run away as soon as Geralt takes his eyes off him. Maybe he’ll evaporate. He doesn’t look very solid anymore. Geralt moves slowly in front of him.  
“It’s too late for apologies, Geralt”, Jaskier says after a few heartbeats have passed between them. “I’m angry at you but I understand. And I’m angry at myself for hoping… I think.”  
“Please forgive me.”  
“I can live with what you said but I can’t forgive, I’m sorry. I wish I could, I really do. When I think of you, all the songs and poems you inspired me, all I can hear now are those words you say and I can’t sing for you anymore. I can’t find my own words because yours are so loud they are drowning everything else. And if I can’t sing for you, well… I don’t know how to keep going. Dogoba is coming for me Geralt. I had twenty years I shouldn’t have had, I think I can give him the rest.” The resignation in Jaskier's voice is scarier to Geralt than anything monster he has ever fought.  
“I didn’t know. I didn’t understand, I’m so sorry Jaskier. I didn’t mean any of it.”  
“But you chose to say it anyway. Words are like shards of glass in the wind Geralt. Once they are out there, you can’t take them back, they just float away freely. They burrow into your skin and never leave you.”  
Jaskier stays quiet for a moment more but lets Geralt bring them together. More for the Witcher than for himself.  
“Please let me find a way. I promise I can save you. Please.” Geralt encircles him in his arms carefully. They both feel a little stiff at first, not used to being so close to each other but once they sink into it, it feels nice. Like a shadow of what Jaskier always wanted. He sighs deeply and returns the embrace.  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Geralt hugs him tighter and doesn’t let him go for a while, wishing he could take everything back.

***

They go to Triss. Geralt had wanted to go to Yennefer but Jaskier couldn’t stomach that idea. The trip takes them a few days but Jaskier grows to be content. Now that his secret is finally out Geralt seems to care more. He’s still angry, still sad that Geralt will never be his like Jaskier had thought he was meant to be, but they get to know each other like they never have in twenty years. Geralt is not talking much more but he seems more open somehow. More fragile in a way. They sleep close to each other at night. Geralt is constantly checking if Jaskier is still solid and he freaks out every time the wind takes Jaskier away. He hates to see the pain Jaskier is in every time it happens. Now that he understands what he’s been missing, what could have happened during all those years travelling together, he’s not ready to let the bard go just yet. Jaskier feels the call but it’s not as strong now that Geralt is with him. He’s losing this battle, but not as fast as he feared, he has a little more time yet. The wind never leaves them but it doesn’t bother him as much. Sometimes he can’t hold on to Geralt when they ride, but the flickering is not as bad after their fight. And every time Geralt opens up a little, Jaskier feels more and more at peace with what’s happening to him.

They get to Triss late one night. She has a small cottage right outside of town where she lives when she’s not at court. It’s small and quiet. She offers them supper and after they’ve eaten, she lets them explain everything. It takes a long time, she has many questions but she promises she will think about it and help them if she can. She already knows she can’t but she wants to give them one more night together. They eat breakfast early and she tells them she will consult books in her office at the palace. She’ll be back after lunch and they are free to stay in her home if they wish too until then. She promises she will have answers but she has work to do as well. She feels like a coward for dragging this out. She can see how hard it is for Jaskier to resist the pull. The warm summer breeze encircling her home hasn’t escaped her notice either as it is highly unusual this time of the year. The leaves started to turn red and yellow weeks ago.

When she goes home that afternoon, she asks both of them in her study. She can see Geralt’s worries right in his eyes. He looks miserable. Jaskier feels strangely calm, however. His eyes are a little unfocused.  
“Jaskier, can you tell me how you feel right now?”  
“I feel... lighter like I’m a breath away from disappearing altogether. I need air, why is it so stuffy here?” Jaskier opens a window. Instantly he feels better. The wind is strong outside and it calls to him still _Come, come come, you promised, come..._ It looks like he’s flicking in and out of existence again.  
“You have to fix this Triss!” Geralt says, anxious. “Please! He’s almost gone. It’s like the wind is going to take him anytime!”  
Triss has never heard Geralt say please before. Her heart breaks for him a little. She goes to close the window and Jaskier seems a little more solid again, the flickering dying down.  
“I’m sorry. As I said last night, I fear it isn’t a curse.”  
“I tried to explain that to Geralt already, he won’t listen”, Jaskier says, now standing next to Geralt, brushing his fingers on the back of the Witcher’s hand. He’s standing so close Geralt can feel some of Jaskier’s body heat along his arm. The bard has always run hot, always needed to feel the air on his skin and now Geralt understands why. The heat, however dim it is, feels reassuring to Geralt, like a proof Jaskier is still here. His fingers twitch wanting to grab Jaskier’s hand but he’s not sure it would be welcome and he lets the moment pass.  
“When I was training, I used to read a lot about all sorts of things, especially old magic. The kind you can’t recreate because it only exists in nature. Like Destiny.”  
“Don’t talk to be about fucking Destiny, I’ve had enough of that. Jaskier needs help now!”  
“Let her speak Geralt.”  
Geralt growls a bit but keeps quiet, folding his arms together.  
“As I was trying to explain, there are forces beyond even the strongest witch. The world is more alive than we think. Jaskier summoned Dogoba, the spirit of the West Wind, which is impressive by the way. I’m sorry I never heard you sing, you must have quite a voice.”  
Jaskier doesn’t answer. He feels empty. Triss wishes she hadn’t said that she hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Those kinds of spirits are old, very old. They existed before the conjunction of the spheres and will exist long after us.”  
“So? What’s your point, we already know who it is. Tell us what to do to stop this curse! The spirit was summoned once, we can do it again”, Geralt says impatiently.  
“You’re not hearing me Geralt. Those spirits can’t be summoned and this one found Jaskier on its own. Jaskier isn’t cursed. He gave a promise to a practical god. The magic inside of him is beyond anything anyone is capable of. It saved Jaskier and easily gave him an unnaturally long life.”  
“I don’t think so? That wasn’t part of what I asked for?” Jaskier said, curious.  
“Jaskier, you asked to find your love and Dogoba promised you many years with them. For what you told me, you two met when you were, what twenty?”  
“Eighteen.”  
“Eighteen. Have you never wondered why you haven't changed much since you’ve met?  
”I've always had a youthful face I’m told.”  
“I bet. Witchers live a very long life and the spirit promised you a life with your love. I don’t know if soulmates exist. I’ve never seen proof of that. I don’t think people are meant to love one person only their entire life but maybe they are. Or maybe it’s not even about soulmates but just the person you were destined to love the most. But, regardless it’s not impossible the spirit gave you more time because Geralt was your Destiny and doesn’t age as fast as you do.”  
“I think I am proof you can love one person your entire life and still find pleasure with many others. Those aren’t exclusive”.  
“No, don't say that!” Geralt interrupts, “Because that means you... Jaskier, I thought all those people, I thought”… he stammers. “You’ve had… feelings for me all this time without telling me? And I…” Geralt stops and looks at Jaskier suddenly, realizing what he did ten years ago in Rinde and then quietly adds “And I messed up so bad. It means we were supposed to be together for over 20 years but I…”  
“Don’t love me?”  
Jaskier moves away from Geralt’s side. A small sad smile playing on his lips.  
“Just my luck, isn’t it? I met the man Fate has chosen for me only three weeks after that damn promise. I could have had so much time with you. But after all, just because I was meant to love you doesn’t mean you were meant to love me too, that was never part of the deal. Wouldn’t that make a perfect ballad if I could just fucking sing?” he says frustrated.

They keep quiet, Triss not quite sure what to do when Geralt looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Jaskier like he’d rather be anywhere else, almost gone already.  
After a moment Geralt speaks quietly.  
“I did... The first ten years I think I did. But then I tied my fate to Yennefer and it was gone. I thought maybe I had just been a little lonely before I met her, maybe it was all wishful thinking. I didn’t understand. I’m not used to feeling… that way.” He moves closer to Jaskier. If he reached for him, he would be able to touch the bard. But he’s terrified he won’t be solid enough, so Geralt doesn't reach.  
“You never said…”  
“It scared me. To feel so much. Like it was more than just me. I guess it was”, he says with a sad smile. “And you kept coming in and out of my life like a hurricane. Always with a new story, a new lover. How was I supposed to know? I’m used to being alone, I didn’t think you wanted me.” Geralt adds this last part quietly.  
“I guess Fate can be cruel. I wanted you the moment I saw you. I thought to find you would be a great revelation but it wasn’t. It took time for the feelings to deepen from just attraction to something much more profound. And after a while, I understood that just because you want something doesn’t mean it will be easy to get it. I didn’t want to force it. I thought with time you would see me like I’d come to see you. And you never did and I was lonely. But no matter who I spent my night with, I always came back to you. I hoped things would change. I wanted to give you time. Guess I waited too long and I ran out of it by the lake that day.” Jaskier gives Geralt a brittle smile that makes Geralt ache deep in his bones.  
“What do you mean by tying your fate to Yennefer?” Ask Triss, not meaning to interrupt the moment but needing to know.  
Geralt turns toward her regretfully, not wanting to take his eyes off Jaskier.  
“I was chasing a Djinn, for some stupid reason. It seemed important then. Things turned bad and I made a wish to save her life by saving mine.”  
“Djinn magic is peculiar. I suppose… you must have forced Fate to save her and as a punishment, you lost your love for Jaskier. I guess Fate gave it to Yenna, a woman you can never make happy and who will never make you whole.” Triss has moved closer too. “Nobody defies Destiny without consequences and She is vengeful. I’m sorry Geralt.” She rubs Geralt’s arms with a comforting hand. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at Jaskier, eyes full of regrets.  
“I think I need some air”, Jaskier says. It’s too much, he needs to leave the room.

Geralt moves to stop him but Triss is quicker and doesn’t let him.  
“Give him time,” she says, understanding Jaskier’s need to be alone.  
“Is there anything I can do to fix this? Jaskier needs to sing.”  
“I’m sorry but no. You can’t mend a broken heart. Jaskier sang of his joy to be in this world with you, even before he met you. You can’t fake that. I supposed, even after the Djinn he carried some hope. He strikes me as the hopelessly romantic type. But everyone has a breaking point Geralt, and after the dragon… There’s something broken in Jaskier now. You can’t replace joy with desperation.”  
“Am I supposed to just let him go? After taking everything away?”  
“Yes, you are. The magic is too old, too strong. He can’t escape his promise.” She doesn’t think Jaskier wants to anymore but she’s not going to say that to Geralt.  
“Destiny can be rewritten, I think I know that.”  
“Not for him. Now, because of his promise, he will become part of something bigger than anything you will ever know Geralt. It’s his Destiny. To bring his songs to everyone who longs for company on a warm summer day.”  
“I can’t let this happen Triss. I have to save him. The solution is so simple.” Geralt sounds so desperate.  
“You’re not listening Geralt. You can’t give him what he needs, not after the wish. I’m not powerful enough to break it. I’m not even sure it’s possible. And he’s suffering every time the wind takes him and you bring him back. He doesn’t belong here Geralt. You’ve condemned him to a loveless life. Let him be free.”  
Geralt looks away, eyes shining. Triss keeps rubbing his arm. He knows she’s right but he doesn’t want to abandon Jaskier, he can’t.

They stay in the study for a while. She makes him tea. But when he can’t wait anymore he goes to find Jaskier. He’s sitting outside, under a weeping willow. He’s plucking notes on his lute idly. Geralt sits by him but doesn’t say a word. For a while, they just listen to the notes rising in the air. It’s a bit chilly now that autumn has really set in but the warm wind around them is comforting.  
“I’m tired Geralt”, Jaskier says, without looking up from his lute. The melody is broken, Jaskier is not solid enough to strike every note anymore. He’s here and not a second later, stuck between two states. Between a Destiny that never was and one yet to be.  
“You just need to rest a little while. Tomorrow we’ll leave and find someone else to help us. Someone powerful enough to break the wish.”  
“I’m not talking about that kind of tired Geralt.” Jaskier is looking at him now, eyes impossibly big. Geralt goes to answer him but Jaskier puts two fingers on his lips.  
“Don’t… please. Even if we could break it I don’t think I could forget your words. I will always have doubts. My skin feels too tight now, my body is too heavy. I can feel every breeze, every flutter around us and it feels good. You can’t stop it Geralt, I can feel the wind calling me and it’s so loud. But you’re keeping me here a little bit longer and I need you to let me go.”  
Geralt doesn’t say anything for a long time. He’s just looking at Jaskier’s face, every detail feels important. How his hair falls on his face, the contour of his lips, the little marks around his eyes. His eyes are so blue, like the ocean. Geralt should have gone to the coast. He looks at Jaskier more attentively than he ever did before and sees everything he used to love but forgot. He takes his time but finally takes both of Jaskier’s hands in his and asks.  
“Alright. Tell me what you want to do?”  
And Jaskier smiles warmly. “Take me to the forest. I’d like to spend the night there under the stars like we used to do. Just you and me and nothing else but the forest to witness our story one last time.”

***

They ride out that same afternoon. Triss says goodbye even if she tried to change their mind. She says something might happen to Jaskier while they are out there but that’s the point isn’t it? Jaskier isn’t coming back. They settle a little before dusk. They didn’t go far but they are alone and that’s all that matters. Jaskier tries to start a fire like he always does when they are on a hunt, but his hands can’t hold the flint very well anymore and it slips right through them. Geralt is right by his side to pick it up.  
“I’ll do it, it’s okay”, he says gently. It’s really not but Jaskier lets him do it anyway, resting against Geralt’s side when he settles back down.  
They eat and drink what Triss has packed for them. They aren’t hungry but it’s what they used to do and Jaskier needs that right now. After dinner, Jaskier asks for a story. The best Geralt has. Geralt wishes he could tell him about all the times he would watch Jaskier and how he loved him but he can’t. He knows he loved the bard once but he doesn’t remember how. The feelings have been taken away from him too long ago.  
It’s a bit chilly and they use it as an excuse that night to share a bedroll. Neither of them wants to sleep though and they end up facing each other, not wanting to look at anything else. The fire is still going strong, casting a warm glow on both of them. When Geralt opens his golden eyes, Jaskier is already looking at him. The air is heavy between them. Geralt’s hand moves almost on its own, and he starts stroking Jaskier’s cheek slowly, very softly. He’s so afraid Jaskier is going to disappear between his fingers, he’s barely even solid anymore. They’re lying so impossibly close to each other but Geralt can't feel Jaskier’s warmth at all. Gods he looks so pale under the moonlight. The bard hand, solid once again, comes to rest on his hip and Geralt’s shivers at the touch. They haven’t said anything yet but Geralt can read everything in Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt closes his and leans in to kiss Jaskier softly, with a tenderness he didn’t know he could show and Jaskier takes all he can from it. He knows it’s a promise unfulfilled. Or maybe it’s a whisper of a memory that never was.

Geralt finally pushes back, just barely and brings their foreheads together.  
“You deserve so much Jaskier. I don’t know how to undo what I’ve done to you”, he whispers.  
“It’s too late now, I’ll be gone soon.”  
“Don’t say that. We’ll find a way.”  
“Geralt, It’s okay… I’m okay. Destiny was just not kind to us.”  
“I wish I could love you the way you deserve to be loved. The way I was supposed to.”  
“I know you can’t, I understand why. I’m ready to go Geralt, it’s time.”  
Geralt takes a deep breath but it feels like ash in his throat. He doesn’t speak for several minutes, searching the truth in Jaskier’s eyes. When he finds it, he whispers.  
“Tell me what to do.”  
“Hold me tight, just for a little while?”  
“Of course, I can do that for you.”  
Geralt’s hand leaves Jaskier’s cheek to come on his neck. He brings the bard closer to him, chest to chest. Jaskier rests his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and breathes softly and steadily. His hand moves from Geralt’s hip, to rest on his back. Jaskier is at peace now. It takes a long, long time but eventually they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, Geralt wakes up cold. His hands flex on nothing but air. He’s utterly alone. He sits up, incapable of moving further, eyes shining with a pain he can’t let out. The leaves are starting to fall above him. Everything is quiet, ready for the great sleep. Everything is still. But a warm summer breeze comes to roll around him slowly, encompassing all of him for a little while in an impossible hug, a whisper of a summer not quite forgotten yet. The wind moves away from him eventually and starts to shake the leaves in the trees making the forest sing all around him. And for the first time in a very long time, the Witcher remembers and he lets the pain out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic.  
> This work has meant a lot to me and took out a lot of my energy but in a great way. Please leave a comment and/or a kudos or share this to help a poor writer keep her sanity!
> 
> Thank you again for sticking with me!


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